


happy little christmas

by xenobia4



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 05:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenobia4/pseuds/xenobia4
Summary: After an attack, some things end up changing Tony's life forever.





	happy little christmas

_…tap…tap…tap…._

Snow fell outside the windows of Tony’s top floor, hitting the streets of Lower Manhattan below. Outside, the streets were decorated with Christmas lights, making the entire city glow even brighter: street lamps were decorated with garland and fluorescent blue lights, mock snowflakes hung on telephone poles, music drifted out from several stores while carolers were on the streets and filling the air with a bright cheer. Tourists and residents were walking the streets, the stress of the holidays finally coming to an end as the holiday was finally set in full swing. Everyone’s stress had finally melted away, to where they would now get to celebrate with friends and family.

Everyone was together on this day, even if it was a father calling their family from a cellphone in the airport – they could still talk to the ones they loved.

But unlike most of New York – and most of the country – Tony Stark found himself alone on the holiday; not even Pepper had stopped by. Not that he expected her to. Hell, he did not expect anyone to come by, not after how he had been treating them.

How he had made sure to treat them.

The last time he had even seen any of the Avengers was when they had gotten together for Thanksgiving. He had made a complete ass out of himself. He had gotten drunk, pissed off Clint and Natasha by hitting on the latter, resulting in getting punched in the face by Clint; he had annoyed Bruce to the point where the physicist left halfway through the dinner and did not come back; he had even managed to piss of Thor by making fun of Loki, who, despite everything, was still the demigod’s brother, who Thor would go to great lengths to defend; and then there was Steve, who he had been hanging all over in his drunken state and told him that he did not care if Steve fucked his, Tony’s, dad – that he wanted Steve to “fuck him, too.”

Easy enough to say that they distanced themselves after that fiasco.

Rhodey had been deployed since early summer and was not due back until the following summer and Pepper was with her family after he told her to not worry about the next two weeks. That and he knew she would end up spending the time with Happy, even if she thought he was unaware of the duo’s budding romance.

People would question why Tony Stark was spending the holiday alone.

In the beginning of November, there had been an attempt on Tony’s life – another protest against his company, despite the fact Stark Enterprises had moved to only manufacturing clean energy. He had been walking through Manhattan when he managed to walk right into a protest rally. A fight ensued and he wound up getting pushed to the ground and hitting his head on the sidewalk. He woke up with an officer leaning over him and shining one of those blasted flashlights in his eyes, saying something about how he had a concussion and was waiting on a bus to his fellow officer. Despite trying to tell the officers he was fine, they said they needed to get him checked out and, legally, could not leave him, knowing he had a concussion. At the hospital, he was given and MRI.

And that was when everything he had known and completely flipped upside down.

What should have been a routine checkup that he would be done with ended up being a moment that would change his life.

A brain tumor.

A malignant, inoperable brain tumor.

Pushing against his frontal cortex.

The doctors said he would be lucky to make it to the New Year.

The past month and a half was spent trying to get everything set to make sure his company and his technologies would be taken care of. He had everything stored in JARVIS’s hard drive.

Ready to be read off when they were accessed after his death.

They always said that one would never know when a brain tumor would claim a life, but Tony begged to differ. He knew that tonight was going to be his last night. He could sense it and the pain grew day by day. Tonight it was oddly calm – no headaches or anything.

The calm before the storm.

This was why he wanted to be alone – why he purposefully pushed everyone he cared about away. If they hated him, they would not care if he died. They would not miss him; and that was what he wanted. He would rather suffer alone, than have people feel bad for him – pity him.

He inhaled as he leaned back against the headboard and shut his eyes, listening to the silence around him. The only light that leaked into the room was from the lights outside – the white-blue, red and green lights that lit up the city as they reflected off of the white snow. He lightly opened his eyes, leaving them only halfway. After another moment’s pause, he spoke into the darkness, “Shutdown, JARVIS.”

The A.I’s voice flooded into the room: “ _Sir, I don’t think that to be wise_.”

Exhaling a fake laugh through his nose, Tony stared down at the white bed sheets on his lap, somewhat tracing his eyes along his for-once-modest sleepwear: blue and white striped sleep shirt and pants. “Contact Dr. Banner in the morning. He’ll make sure you’re running smoothly.”

“ _Sir_ —”

“Please, JARVIS,” Tony cut the unit off, staring up at the ceiling, as though trying to physically look at the A.I. “I want to be alone for this.”

For a small while, JARVIS did not respond.

He knew that JARVIS would eventually adapt to human behavior, including emotions, but he never knew that it would be just as difficult (if not even more difficult) to say goodbye to the one thing – the one system – that had been there for him, even when he had no one. He had grown attached to the unit, more-so than he could to any human, if that made any logical sense at all.

Finally, JARVIS’s voice came back over. “… _yes, sir_.” Tony nodded and forced a smile as he shut his eyes and allowed his head to fall back in front. “ _…goodnight, sir_.”

For the first time since he had been diagnosed with the tumor, water fell down his face. An allotted amount of silence from the unit gave the notion that the unit had shut itself down, as per his request. The moment of silence became longer and he began reflecting on everything: everything he had done wrong and the few things he had done right.

Though the others may hate, even despise him, they were still close with each other.

And that was something he had done right.

He would much rather have it to where they hated him than each other; at least he could give that.

With nothing in the room, sans his own breath, the headache that had abandoned him all day came back. His eyes clamped shut and his hands forced themselves over his ears as a loud noise invaded his head as the tumor pressed on the olfactory nerve, causing a painful ringing. He fell onto his side, practically entangling himself in the sheets as he tried to press down harder on his ears, trying to cut out the noise the emanated from his own brain. Blood dripped down his nose as he began yelling and crying for it to stop.

But the noise just continued to grow louder and louder.

He writhed on the bed, kicking everything off of him and around him as the pain increased with the sound.

And then….

It stopped.

Silence was left in the room.

Not even the sound of Tony’s breathing to give noise.

And as the snow continued to fall from the sky outside, and as Tony lay limp on the bed with his hands by his ears, his face relaxed as blood dripped from his nose and ears, JARVIS’s voice broke back over the com and, in a soft whisper, came out with:

“… _goodbye, sir_ ….”

* * *

Wind blew the snow across the grounds, sending an icy chill in the otherwise-calm air. Though there was no sun out, the light gray sky reflecting off the white, crystallized water made it appear brighter than any sunny day could ever hope to bring. Fresh flowers poked through the snow on most plots, the array of light blue, red and pink giving a beautiful flush of color. In any other scenario, it would have been deemed the perfect day – the perfect winter day.

It was a cruel irony.

A ways onto the grounds, a tall male stood over a freshly opened plot, staring down at a closed casket that had several white roses and dirt sitting on top of it as his hands fumbled around with a half-sheet of paper. The first day of the New Year and the last thing in his mind was an exultant notion. A day meant for celebration and wiping the slate clean – a day everyone should have been celebrating together – and, instead, they had to attend the funeral of one of their comrades – one of their friends.

As a stray drop fell down Steve’s cheek, he wiped it away with the palm of his hand, his gaze not trailing from the casket below.

The funeral had been held early that morning and, while everyone else had already departed, Steve found himself staying back, unable to leave the grounds as he continued to mess with the paper. He had lost so many people he cared about; what with waking up seventy-some-odd years later to find out that everyone he had known was dead, he knew that he would outlive the others, but he never thought to lose anyone so soon. Especially not when everyone should have been together and laughing about stupid and moronic things.

When they found out about Tony’s death, Steve had not shown much emotion: he just sat down, dumbfounded with an emotionless expression on his face. Bruce had been the one to find Tony; he had been contacted by JARVIS, saying he was needed at Tony’s house right on the insides of Lower Manhattan for a maintenance run. It was the first time that Bruce would have even been to see Tony since he had walked out on Thanksgiving; he had picked a small something up for Tony as a Christmas gift and headed over. When everything was found unlocked, he started calling out for Tony when the man was not in his lab. After searching, that was when he had found Tony in his bedroom, his body cold and lifeless, already having gone into the beginning stages of rigor. By the time anyone was able to get in contact with him, Bruce had gone numb, too in shock and barely able to absorb what had happened. It took forever to get him to even speak when Clint had come over looking for him. Clint had been the one to call for a bus, though they both knew it was a moot point – neither one of them could believe anything had happened.

It was not until they found out the reason for Tony’s death that the emotions truly hit any of them.

Had it have been due to some attack by some enemy, they might have been more equipped to handle it, knowing that there could be some form of retribution; but to be told that it was because of a medical problem? One that the Iron Man had known about for months and said nothing?

What constituted for that?

It was then that the realization of Tony’s actions had sunk in.

And that was why Steve was constantly kicking himself. Much like Rhodey, he knew Tony better than anyone else, but it never occurred to him that the reason Tony was pushing everyone away was because of an illness.

Why did he want to be alone?

Though he figured it was Pepper’s way of coping, she had gotten angry, saying that what Tony did was selfish and inconsiderate to everyone else, but Tony got what he wanted – he got to go out the way he wanted to go out. Steve begged to differ, but did not tell her that; he just listened to her vent.

Yes, it may have been what Tony wanted, but it was not what he _needed_. He had needed to be with people that cared about him and that would be there for him and support him. He needed the emotional support – to know that he was not alone and that people actually cared about Tony Stark, not Tony Stark as the head of Stark Industries or as Iron Man, but _the_ Tony Stark – the real one. The one that would sacrifice himself for the greater good; the one that would take all of the fault, just so everyone else would stop fighting; the one that was so vulnerable, but never let anyone see. That was what he had needed more than anything else; not to be alone – to die alone.

Clint had finally broken down right before the funeral, regretting that the last thing he had done to Tony was call him an “egotistical bastard” after decking him square in the face. Pepper was still self-loathing that she had not picked up on Tony’s odd behavior, that Tony had not been as flirtatious as he usually was and seemed to take things a bit more seriously the last few weeks. Hell, even Thor had been mourning – in his own way, the others supposed. He did not show for the funeral (though no one expected him to), making the comment that he did not understand the point of burying and why they were not giving Tony a hero’s funeral. Natasha tried to explain it to him, but he just became agitated with the “Midgardian’s disrespect for such a man.” When Pepper got in contact with Rhodey, the man barely even said anything; he just thanked Pepper for telling him, and then hung up.

There would be no way he could make it in time for the funeral – his best friend’s funeral – and she could not even know how it had affected him.

Steve had barely even said a word since they found out, having a reaction that Pepper had assumed to mirror Rhodey’s. Christmas night, Steve had tried getting drunk, just as he had done after losing Bucky; it only resulted in him becoming pissed off that he could not even drown himself in alcohol. Another thing that had been regretting was getting mad at Tony for his drunken antics the last holiday. It was true that he cared about the man, but he did not want to sleep with him, he just wanted to be close to him – to protect him and be there for him when he needed him. And the one time that Tony needed him, Steve was avoiding him. He did not know how to act around him after that exploit. Tony had climbed on his lap while he was sitting on the couch and began kissing him as he took his shirt off, begging for Steve to have sex with him.

“ _Please…I want you to fuck me...like I know you fucked my dad._ ”

He did not even have a response for that; just told Tony he was drunk and needed to stop with the immature antics. When Tony tried to undress him, Steve abruptly stood up, making Tony fall onto the floor and pretty much throw a temper tantrum, asking him why Steve did not want to have sex with him. The Captain could not take it anymore and lashed out, telling Tony to stop acting like a whore and that he would not sleep with Tony to save his life. He had left Tony’s residence with Natasha, who was only staying to be considerate.

Since, he had been trying to gather up the nerve to go back to see Tony and talk with him – basically to apologize for what he had said. Several times, he had been standing right outside Tony’s lab while the man worked, too nervous to go in, not really knowing what to say. Not once did the younger man see him, being too focused on whatever he was doing. He had tried writing Tony a note, instead, something he had made fun of himself for doing, acting like some teenage girl. It was just a small note, scribbled onto a sheet of paper. Even if he just left it behind or slid it under Tony’s door, but he could not bring himself to do it. He continued to hold back.

More than few times, he and Tony had done that back and forth whenever Tony actually stayed in Stark Tower with them, instead of going to stay at his private home on the outskirts of Manhattan. They would write stupid little notes to each other, including Steve writing notes that simply said “come and eat” or “you need to sleep” and slipping them under the lab’s door. Tony would write similar notes, usually in the mornings, with things written, such as “movie night – your pick” or “come distract me, later.”

Even now, as he stood over Tony’s casket, the Captain held the note he had last written in his hand, fumbling with it over-and-over. Now, more than ever, he wished he would have given it to him.

The wind picked up, smacking him in the face with ice-cold snow. At this point, he did not care. His mind was numb from the emotions the last few days. This was not a way to celebrate a holiday – to celebrate the most festive occasions.

“Goddamn you, Tony,” he muttered, not bothering to wipe away the water that had returned to his ducts. “Why did you have to be so stupid?” His heart lurched in his chest as he sniffed, shaking his head. “Why couldn’t you tell me?” His breath caught in his throat as he released a long-awaited yell.

He tried to calm down, but seeing the writing on Tony’s headstone refused to allow him to stop.

 

Anthony Edward “Tony” Stark

The Original Iron Man

May 29, 1970 – December 25, 2013

“Beloved friend. Hero to the world. Forever in our memory.”

 

The date reflected back like a harsh crack in crystal with a year that was much too early.

The words on the headstone had Steve shaking his head.

Tony was even more than what was scripted. He was more than a friend, more than a hero. He was an amazing man that had so much to offer, but would constantly put himself down behind the scenes. The last thing Tony had ever seen himself as was a hero.

Another jab to Steve’s chest.

“ _You better stop pretending to be a hero._ ”

Over a year later and those words still resounded in Steve’s mind. He had apologized to Tony for saying it more than once on multiple occasions, though the younger man had continued telling him to shut up about it and that it he was not exactly a saint, either. They had traded back-and-forth banters several times since, but it was rare when they had a full-out fight; not that they had not. Before Thanksgiving, they had fought during the summer when Tony kept showing up to meetings late and tired. What everyone else had figured to be a hangover (and he was certain Tony figured it to be either that or just a typical headache), it was now that they knew those headaches were due to the tumor.

Why did no one think anything of it?

Hindsight’s twenty-twenty.

Inhaling again, Steve looked back at the note. Water dropped onto it as he reread it, trying to not break down again. After wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, he crouched down and tossed the paper in, letting it float down to lay open on top of the casket. He stood up, staring down at it as he kept apologizing to the air around him. Taking in one last breath, he finally tore his gaze away, keeping his head facing the snow-covered ground as his boots crunched while he walked away.

The wind picked back up, moving the flowers and the snow in the graveyard. On top of the casket, the paper shifted, the corners moving slightly. On it, snow landed on the words Steve never got to say:

_I’m sorry. Forgive me?_


End file.
